This is a blog about the Bronte Sisters, Charlotte, Emily and Anne. And their father Patrick, their mother Maria and their brother Branwell. About their pets, their friends, the parsonage (their house), Haworth the town in which they lived, the moors they loved so much, the Victorian era in which they lived.

I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.Emily BronteWuthering Heights

maandag 16 april 2012

GASKELL AND THE BRONTËS Literary Manuscripts of Elizabeth Gaskell (1810-1865) and the Brontës from the Brotherton Library, University of Leeds

Writing to an autograph collector, Elizabeth Gaskell’s widowed husband William regretted that no reliable likeness of her survived. ‘I’m sorry to say there is no good photograph of my dear wife’, Mr Gaskell wrote in August 1879, fourteen years after her death: ‘The only one, indeed, which exists … does not at all do her justice’. But if a photographic record of Elizabeth Gaskell’s physical appearance has only inadequately been preserved, she left behind a substantial corpus of letters, many held in the Brotherton Library, and other personal writings, that provide a different, more convincing picture.
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The collection of Elizabeth Gaskell’s correspondence is the largest in the world. There are many letters to her daughters, Marianne (Polly), Margaret (Meta), Florence (Flossy) and Julia, and to her sisters-in-law, Eliza Holland and Nancy Robson. These tell us much about her concerns, her views of literature, and her life at home with the Rev William Gaskell.
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Particularly rich in nineteenth-century material, Lord Brotherton’s extraordinary collection included a major set of poetic manuscripts by Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909) and associated correspondence. A substantial amount of material relating to Edmund Gosse (1849-1928) was given to the Library together with a considerable collection of manuscripts by the Brontë family, concentrating on those of the unhappy and ill-starred brother of the novelists, Branwell Brontë. The Brontë and Gaskell material – its purchase guided by W. J. Wise and Clement Shorter – formed already a significant collection when Lord Brotherton died and successive librarians at Leeds have added to it.
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“a little lady in black silk gown, whom I could not see at first for the dazzle in the room; she came up & shook hands with me at once. I went up to unbonnet &c. came down to tea, the little lady worked away and hardly spoke; but I had time for a good look at her. She is (as she calls herself) undeveloped; thin and more than ½ a head shorter than I, soft brown hair not so dark as mine; eyes (very good and expressive looking straight & open at you) of the same colour, a reddish face; large mouth and many teeth gone; altogether plain; the forehead square, broad, and rather over-hanging. She has a very sweet voice, rather hesitates in choosing her expressions, but when chosen they seem without an effort, admirable and just befitting the occasion. There is nothing overstrained but perfectly simple.” Thus Elizabeth Gaskell’s first impression of Charlotte Brontë, whose controversial Life of Charlotte Brontë she would publish in 1857. Brontë appears under this scrutiny in poor condition – ‘tiny’, ‘reddish face’, missing teeth, undeveloped. Much of the rest of Gaskell’s account in the Winkworth correspondence dwells on the hardships of living at Haworth and with the ogre ..... Gaskell perceives as the half-mad Patrick Brontë. The seeds of her later sturdy criticism of the sisters’ home and father are obvious. Patrick, she told Catherine Winkworth, was subject to fits of rage which he visited in violence not on people but on household objects; he sawed up dining room chairs despite the pleas of his sobbing wife, he filled a room with choking smoke as he angrily burnt a hearthrug to exorcise some personal demon. He was, in Gaskell’s reckoning, a man utterly careless of his children. He ‘never taught the girls anything’, she claimed, he barely expressed a word at the publication of Jane Eyre, and was indifferent to their comfort. ‘“At 19”’, Gaskell says Charlotte told her, ‘“I should have been thankful for an allowance of 1d [one penny] a week. I asked my father, but he said What did women want with money[?]”’
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“… Have you heard that Harriet Martineau has sworn an eternal friendship with the author of Shirley, if not I’ll tell you. She sent Shirley to Harriet Martineau. H.M. acknowledged it in a note directed to Currer Bell Esq. - but inside written to a lady.Then came an answer requesting a personal interview. This was towards or about last Saturday week, and the time appointedwas 6 o’clock on Sunday Even[in]g and the place appointed was at Richard Martineau’s (married a Miss Needham) in HydePark Square, so Mr & Mrs R. Martineau and Harriet M. sat with early tea before them, awaiting six o’clock, & their mysterious
visitor, when lo! and behold, as the clock struck in walked a little, very little, bright haired sprite, looking not above 15, very unsophisticated, neat & tidy. She sat down & had tea with them, her name being still unknown; she said to H.M. ‘What do you really think of Jane Eyre’? H.M. I thought it a first rate book. Whereupon the little sprite went red all over with pleasure. After tea, Mr & Mrs R. M. withdrew, and left sprite to a 2 hours tête a tête with H.M. to whom she revealed her name & the history of her life. Her father a Yorkshire clergyman who has never slept out of his house for 26 years; she has lived a most retired life; - her first visit to London, never been in society and many other particulars which H.M is not at liberty to divulge any more than her name, which she keeps a profound secret; but Thackeray does not. H.M. is charmed with her; she is full of life and power &c. &c. & H.M. hopes to be of great use to her. There! that’s all I know, but I think it’s a pretty good deal, it’s something to have seen somebody who has seen nominis umbra. …”
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A letter from CB to Mrs Smith, mother of her publisher (Smith, Elder & Co) dated 1 July 1851
Extract: “She is a woman of many fine qualities and deserves the epithet which I find is generally applied to her - charming. Her family consists of four little girls - all more or less pretty and intelligent - these scattered throughout the rooms of a somewhat spacious house - seem to fill it with liveliness and gaiety.”
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Elizabeth Gaskell. AMs describing her visit to Haworth, Sep 1853
Extracts: “We turned up a narrow bye lane near the church - past the curate’s, the schools & skirting the pestiferous churchyard we arrived at the door into the Parsonage yard. In I went, - half blown back by the wild vehemence of the wind which swept along the narrow gravel walk - round the corner of the house into a small plot of grass, enclosed within a low stone wall, over which the more ambitious grave-stones towered all round.” “Miss Brontë gave me the kindest welcome, & the room looked the perfection of warmth, snugness & comfort, crimson predominating in the furniture….” “Before tea we had a long delicious walk right against the wind on Penistone Moor which stretches directly behind the Parsonage going over the hill in brown and purple sweeps and falling softly down into a little upland valley through which a ‘beck’ ran, & beyond again was another great waving hill, - and in the dip of that might be seen another yet more distant, & beyond that the said Lancashire came; but the sinuous hills seemed to girdle the world like the great Norse serpent, & for my part I don’t know if they don’t stretch up to the North Pole. On the moors we met no one. Here and there in the gloom of the distant hollows – with Scotch firs growing near them often, - & told me such wild tales of the ungovernable families who lived or had lived therein that Wuthering Heights seemed tame comparatively. Such dare-devil people, - men especially, - & women so stony and cruel in some of their feelings & so passionately fond in others. They are queer people up there.” GASKELL_and_THE_BRONTES

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The Parlour

Parsonage

Charlotte Bronte

Presently the door opened, and in came a superannuated mastiff, followed by an old gentleman very like Miss Bronte, who shook hands with us, and then went to call his daughter. A long interval, during which we coaxed the old dog, and looked at a picture of Miss Bronte, by Richmond, the solitary ornament of the room, looking strangely out of place on the bare walls, and at the books on the little shelves, most of them evidently the gift of the authors since Miss Bronte's celebrity. Presently she came in, and welcomed us very kindly, and took me upstairs to take off my bonnet, and herself brought me water and towels. The uncarpeted stone stairs and floors, the old drawers propped on wood, were all scrupulously clean and neat. When we went into the parlour again, we began talking very comfortably, when the door opened and Mr. Bronte looked in; seeing his daughter there, I suppose he thought it was all right, and he retreated to his study on the opposite side of the passage; presently emerging again to bring W---- a country newspaper. This was his last appearance till we went. Miss Bronte spoke with the greatest warmth of Miss Martineau, and of the good she had gained from her. Well! we talked about various things; the character of the people, - about her solitude, etc., till she left the room to help about dinner, I suppose, for she did not return for an age. The old dog had vanished; a fat curly-haired dog honoured us with his company for some time, but finally manifested a wish to get out, so we were left alone. At last she returned, followed by the maid and dinner, which made us all more comfortable; and we had some very pleasant conversation, in the midst of which time passed quicker than we supposed, for at last W---- found that it was half-past three, and we had fourteen or fifteen miles before us. So we hurried off, having obtained from her a promise to pay us a visit in the spring... ------------------- "She cannot see well, and does little beside knitting. The way she weakened her eyesight was this: When she was sixteen or seventeen, she wanted much to draw; and she copied nimini-pimini copper-plate engravings out of annuals, ('stippling,' don't the artists call it?) every little point put in, till at the end of six months she had produced an exquisitely faithful copy of the engraving. She wanted to learn to express her ideas by drawing. After she had tried to draw stories, and not succeeded, she took the better mode of writing; but in so small a hand, that it is almost impossible to decipher what she wrote at this time.

I asked her whether she had ever taken opium, as the description given of its effects in Villette was so exactly like what I had experienced, - vivid and exaggerated presence of objects, of which the outlines were indistinct, or lost in golden mist, etc. She replied, that she had never, to her knowledge, taken a grain of it in any shape, but that she had followed the process she always adopted when she had to describe anything which had not fallen within her own experience; she had thought intently on it for many and many a night before falling to sleep, - wondering what it was like, or how it would be, - till at length, sometimes after the progress of her story had been arrested at this one point for weeks, she wakened up in the morning with all clear before her, as if she had in reality gone through the experience, and then could describe it, word for word, as it had happened. I cannot account for this psychologically; I only am sure that it was so, because she said it. ----------------------She thought much of her duty, and had loftier and clearer notions of it than most people, and held fast to them with more success. It was done, it seems to me, with much more difficulty than people have of stronger nerves, and better fortunes. All her life was but labour and pain; and she never threw down the burden for the sake of present pleasure. I don't know what use you can make of all I have said. I have written it with the strong desire to obtain appreciation for her. Yet, what does it matter? She herself appealed to the world's judgement for her use of some of the faculties she had, - not the best, - but still the only ones she could turn to strangers' benefit. They heartily, greedily enjoyed the fruits of her labours, and then found out she was much to be blamed for possessing such faculties. Why ask for a judgement on her from such a world?" elizabeth gaskell/charlotte bronte

Poem: No coward soul is mine

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the worlds storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heavens glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.O God within my breast.
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life -- that in me has rest,
As I -- Undying Life -- have power in Thee!Vain are the thousand creeds That move mens hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast Rock of immortality.

Family tree

Grandparents - paternalHugh Brunty was born 1755 and died circa 1808. He married Eleanor McClory, known as Alice in 1776.

Grandparents - maternalThomas Branwell (born 1746 died 5th April 1808) was married in 1768 to Anne Carne (baptised 27th April 1744 and died 19th December 1809).

ParentsFather was Patrick Bronte, the eldest of 10 children born to Hugh Brunty and Eleanor (Alice) McClory. He was born 17th March 1777 and died on 7th June 1861. Mother was Maria Branwell, who was born on 15th April 1783 and died on 15th September 1821.

Maria had a sister, Elizabeth who was known as Aunt Branwell. She was born in 1776 and died on 29th October 1842.

Patrick Bronte married Maria Branwell on 29th December 1812.

The Bronte ChildrenPatrick and Maria Bronte had six children.The first child was Maria, who was born in 1814 and died on 6th June 1825.The second daughter, Elizabeth was born on 8th February 1815 and died shortly after Maria on 15th June 1825. Charlotte was the third daughter, born on 21st April 1816.

Charlotte married Arthur Bell Nicholls (born 1818) on 29th June 1854. Charlotte died on 31st March 1855. Arthur lived until 2nd December 1906.

The first and only son born to Patrick and Maria was Patrick Branwell, who was born on 26th June 1817 and died on 24th September 1848.

Emily Jane, the fourth daughter was born on 30th July 1818 and died on 19th December 1848.

The sixth and last child was Anne, born on 17th January 1820 who died on 28th May 1849.

Aanbevolen post

National Portrait Gallery There are two official portraits of the Bronte Sisters. Both painted by their brother Branwell Bront...

Question......

If you have information about the Bronte Sisters, please let me know. Maybe you know an article in a newspaper, a book or a website or something else. I am also interested in Haworth.Old cards, maps, photographes.

If you have a weblog, or you know one, with information and/or pictures about Yorkshire, Haworth, the Haworth parsonage, the Brontes, and so on, please, will you let me know?

If you have a subject concerning the Brontes and you want to be a guest blogger, please let me know mefta001@gmail.com

Emily in her diary: 'Anne and I have been peeling apples for Charlotte to make an apple pudding . . . Charlotte said she made puddings perfectly, and she was of a quick but limited intellect. Taby said just now "come Anne pillopuate" (i.e. peel a potato). Aunt has come into the kitchen just now and said "Where are your feet Anne?". Anne answered "On the floor Aunt". . . '

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Emily

"My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her; - out of a sullen hollow in a livid hill-side, her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights; and not the least and best-loved was - liberty.

There is a spot, 'mid barren hills,where winter howls, and driving rain;But, if the dreary tempest chills,There is a light that warms again.

The house is old, the trees are bare,Moonless above bends twilight's dome;But what on earth is half so dear— So longed for—as the hearth of home?

Horoscopes of Emily and Charlotte

I accidentally lighted on a manuscript volume of verse in my sister Emily’s handwriting. Of course, I was not surprised knowing that she could and did write verses. I had a deep conviction that they were not common effusions; not at all like the poetry women generally write. To my ear they had a music, wild, melancholy, elevating. (Currer Bell, “Biographical Notice of Ellis and Acton Bell,” 19 September 1850)

I know of no woman who ever lived who wrote such poetry before. Condensed energy, clearness, finish—strange, strong pathos are their characteristics; utterly different from the usual diffusiveness; the laboured yet most feeble wordiness, which dilutes the writing of even the most popular poetesses. That is my
deliberate and quite impartial opinion. Of its startling excellence I am deeply convinced and have been from the first moment. The pieces are short but they are very genuine; they stirred the heart like the sound of a trumpet when I read them alone and in secret.…

It took hours to reconcile her to the discovery I had made and days to persuade her that such poems merited publication. But I knew that a mind like hers could not be without some spark of honourable ambition and refused to be discouraged in my attempt to fan the flame. By dint of entreaty and reason, I at last wrung out
a reluctant consent. (Letter to Mr. Williams, 1845)
emily-bronte

On 04-04-1855 Charlotte Bronte was buried in the family vault at Haworth Parish Church. On Easter Sunday, 1st April, 1855, many people w...

Why do I keep this weblog?

As a young girl I read Jane Eyre. I loved it. From that moment I wanted to know everything about the Bronte Sisters, their father Patrick, their brother Branwell, Tabby the housekeeper, Keeper and Flossy, two of the many pets they had. Much is known about their lives. Charlotte Bronte wrote many letters. And since just after her death was a biography written by Elizabeth Gaskell, a friend of Charlotte. They lived in Haworth in Great Britain. Their house is now the Bronte Parsonage Museum. When they were children they wrote stories in tiny books, which you can view in the museum. Branwell and Charlotte created "Angria" and Anne and Emily "Gondal". Emily wrote beautiful poetry. No coward soul is mine No trembler in the world's troubles storm-sphere: I see Heavens Glory shine, And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.On the internet, in books and movies is so much information that I was overwhelmed, but now Blogger, offers me the opportunity on this blog to create order..